The following writting is from the Deer Park Monastary web-page:

To begin anew is to look deeply and honestly at ourselves, our past actions, speech and thoughts and to create a fresh beginning within ourselves and in our relationships with others. At the practice center we practice Beginning Anew as a community every two weeks and individually as often as we like.

We practice Beginning Anew to clear our mind and keep our practice fresh. When a difficulty arises in our relationships with fellow practitioners and one of us feels resentment or hurt, we know it is time to Begin Anew. The following is a description of the four-part process of Beginning Anew as used in a formal setting. One person speaks at a time and is not interrupted during his or her turn. The other practitioners practice deep listening and following their breath.

1) Flower watering - This is a chance to share our appreciation for the other person. We may mention specific instances that the other person said or did something that we had admired. This is an opportunity to shine light on the other's strengths and contributions to the sangha and to encourage the growth of his or her positive qualities.

2) Sharing regrets - We may mention any unskillfulness in our actions, speech or thoughts that we have not yet had an opportunity to apologize for.

3) Expressing a hurt - We may share how we felt hurt by an interaction with another practitioner, due to his or her actions, speech or thoughts. (To express a hurt we should first water the other person's flower by sharing two positive qualities that we have trully observed in him or her. Expressing a hurt is often performed one on one with another practitioner rather than in the group setting. You may ask for a third party that you both trust and respect to be present, if desired.)

4) Sharing a long-term difficulty & asking for support- At times we each have difficulties and pain arise from our past that surface in the present. When we share an issue that we are dealing with we can let the people around us understand us better and offer the support that we really need.

The practice of Beginning Anew helps us develop our kind speech and compassionate listening. Begin Anew is a practice of recognition and appreciation of the positive elements within our Sangha. For instance, we may notice that our roommate is generous in sharing her insights, and another friend is caring towards plants. Recognizing others positive traits allows us to see our own good qualities as well.

Along with these good traits, we each have areas of weakness, such as talking out of our anger or being caught in our misperceptions. When we practice "flower watering" we support the development of good qualities in each other and at the same time we help to weaken the difficulties in the other person. As in a garden, when we "water the flowers" of loving kindness and compassion in each other, we also take energy away from the weeds of anger, jealousy and misperception.

We can practice Beginning Anew everyday by expressing our appreciation for our fellow practitioners and apologizing right away when we do or say something that hurts them. We can politely let others know when we have been hurt as well. The health and happiness of the whole community depends on the harmony, peace and joy that exists between every member in the sangha.

The practice of meditation is not an excersise in analysis or reasoning.  The sword of logic has no place in the practices of awareness, concentration, and understanding, and those of stopping and looking.  In Vietnam, when we cook a pot of dried corn, we concentrate the fire under the pot and several hours later the kernels come loose and split open.  When the sun's rays beat down on the snow, the snow slowly melts.  When a hen sits on her eggs, the chicks inside gradually take form until they are ready to peck their way out.  These are images which illustrate the effect of practicing meditation.

- Thich Nhat Hanh, The Sun My Heart

...so what are OUR Precepts?  ...what is OUR Pace?

Facilitating this page I notice that many of us, if not most of us, drink alcohol, and ingest visual and auditory images that Thay would likely view as toxic to the collective body.  Thay's "pace" and committment is clear within the fifth mindfulness training which he refers to as A Diet for A Mindful Society:  "Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful consumption, I am committed to cultivating good health, both physical and mental, for myself, my family, and my society by practicing mindful eating, drinking, and consuming.  I will ingest only items that preserve peace, well-being, and joy in my body, in my consciousness, and in my collective body and consciousness of my family and society.  I am determined not to use alcohol or any other intoxicant or to ingest foods or other items that contain toxins, such as certain TV programs, magazines, books, films, and conversations.  I am aware that to damage my body or my consciousness with these poisons is to betray my ancestors, my parents, my society, and future generations.  I will work to transform violence, fear, anger, and confusion in myself and in society by practicing a diet for myself and for society.  I understand that a proper diet is crucial for self-transformation and for the transformation of society."

The heart of the practice is Mindfulness, awareness in the present moment.  The fact is my pace is divergent from Thay's pace - yet I have no reservation that each has an influence upon the other...and is actually part of the fabric of the other.

We each follow, and we each lead.  The challenge is to be increasingly conscious of it.

When I look at culture as a whole, I can't help but notice Thay is one who stepped out of the single file line to find an alternative pace.

What are the single file lines in our lives?  We don't have to be quick to answer.  It may be even more productive to carry the question with us for a while.  What shows up when we wake up in the morning?  What shows up when we go to bed at night?  What fills the time in between?  What energies are present?  What are the thoughts, emotions, and driving forces that direct our choices?  What are the conversations and relationships that are existant in our homes, schools, places of work, and other areas within the community?

Let's just notice for a while.  For a few days.  For a few weeks, months, years... Remembering that the heart of the Practice is Mindfulness and the possibility of the practice is cultivating Peace, Stability, Compassion, Understanding, and Joy.  What are we following?, because this is also where we are leading.  Have we made Peace a priority?

We must all find our own Pace, our own Rythm, and establish our own Precepts.  In fact, they are the fabric of our lives.  They are our lives.  They are our Paths.  Yet they are not ours alone. 

To be awake on the Path is our greatest Honor.

~ Om Shanti, Namaste

Last week I practiced walking meditation with a group of practitioners.  My awareness was primarily engaged in counting my steps, following my breath, and adjusting my gate in response to the "pace" of the gentleman in front of me.

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Eventually the group broke into its own rhythm.  The majority of practitioners remained in a single file line, mindfully attending to each step at a pace that had been determined early in the evening.  A handful of practitioners; however, sensed that they needed more space.  Their pace was at least a degree slower or faster than that of the group.  These individuals had to break free from the single file line in order to practice in a way that lead to the desired outcome – nurturing peace, stability, and insight.

The breaking free process was just that, a process.  It began with perhaps one or two practitioners.  The variation gradually had an effect upon the group.  Whether or not it was consciously attended to be each member of the group – each member was caused to assess the appropriateness of their individual gate.  There were those who quickly sensed that stepping out to find their own unique rhythm would allow for a more honest and useful period of practice.  A couple of practitioners required a slightly faster pace, another needed a slower pace, and yet another stopped to fully absorb miraculous, beautiful moments as he watched swans swimming in a neighboring pond.

And although I didn't interview each practitioner, I venture to guess there were those who sensed they would have benefited by stepping into their own rhythm; but didn't do so as a result of feeling too self-conscious.

To Be Continued…

THE PRACTICE OF THE PRECEPTS by Richard Baker

Page 148 of Thich Nhat Hanh's For A Future To Be Possible: Commentaries on the Five Mindfulness Trainings

     Vowing is a fundamental practice in Buddhism because we are always vowing.  Thinking and naming are implicit vows that things are as we think and the thing is as named.  Language itself implicitly assumes - vows - that the world is permanent.  Of course the world can be lived in for most practicle purposes as if it were permanent; but it is not a wise way to live.

     These tacit forms of vowing are habitual and often mistaken, so we need conscious, wise vows to counteract them.  Views are the vows that we take for granted.  The Eightfold Path begins with Right Views, because views are the basis of all our activity and thinking.  In Buddhist practice the first step in illuminating our views is taking the precepts.  I call the precepts the vows of basic humanity because they are about what it is to be a human being.  They describe what all societies hope human beings are like.

.....Ideally, through studying ourselves, other people, our culture, and the world, we will come to precepts that we can follow that are practical, that perfect our personality, that support others, and that protect life.....

John 17:21 - That they may all be one, as you are in me and I am in you.
Chapter Six "What can Christians learn from the Koran, Dhammapada, Bhagavad Gita, and Lotus Sermons?" from Joan Chittister's book Becoming Fully Human: The Greatest Glory of God


Scene 1: I was raised in the Roman Catholic world of the 1950s. Denominational lines were tightly drawn then. Theological insulation was the norm. Bigoted truisms abounded: Catholics learned that Protestants didn't go to heaven. Protestants learned that Catholics worshiped Mary. Both of them learned that the Jews killed Jesus. The Jews learned that Christianity threatened their very existence. And they all learned that everybody else in the world was a "pagan."

It was all very neat. It was also very unholy. It served to compartmentalize both the world and God. It made God a tribal God. Truth was not one; truth was Catholic. Period.

Fast-forward. Scene 2: Vatican Council II publishes a document on ecumenism. Ecumeical dialogue--theological discussions in the whole Christian community, Catholic and Protestant--begins. And interfaith work--meetins of representatives of both Christian and non-Christian traditions--becomes a regular part of the religious landscape as well. Vatican II states in the document Nostra Aetate, "We must believe everything that is true in other religions." What? If we are to believe "all that is true" in other religions, something must be true.

Fast-forward again. Scene 3: It is 1995 and I become a founding member of the International Committee for the Peace Council, a body of high-profile religious figures from every major spiritual tradition in the world: Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian. For a professed representative of the Catholic ghetto, it is a shocking collection of Asian monks, Hindu swamis, Muslim imams, Catholic monastics, a Nobel Peace Prize-winning bishop, Protestant pastors, and religious scholars from every tradition. What can possibly be accomplished here?

One of the peace councilors is Maha Ghosananda. A small round man with round eyes and round head and round body, a veritable circle of orange sunburst, he smiles a glowing smile around the table. But he never says a thing. He just sits there in his orange robes cross-legged in the chair, looking seraphic, serene, very comfortable and very out of place at the same time. He is some kind of living icon of peace, I'm sure, but just what I don't know.

All day he smiles and smiles as we discuss going, as a sign of religious unity, to places where religion is at the root of conflict: to Chiapas, to Belfast, to Jerusalem, to India. I begin to wonder what he possibly knows about all of this, if anything. When he's out of the room we are told he is the supreme Buddhist patriarch of Cambodia. This is the monk who has begun the dharma walks across the country to call attention mine field there that have crippled so many and killed even more.

Then out of nowhere it happens. The reason he does it, they say, is because his family--his entire family: brothers and sisters, neices and nephews, in-laws and distant cousins--were murdered in the Pol Pot regime. He has noone left in the world. No one at all. So he does it, because as a Buddhist, he must teach peace.

What can we learn from the spiritual traditions of other traditions? Answer: That God is in the heart of humankind, and if we listen clearly, we can hear that same voice in another language. These reflections deal with what Christians can learn from the Koran, Dhammapada, the Bhagavad Gita, the Talmud, and the Lotus Sermons. Listen.